Those Moments Inbetween
by Asmith137
Summary: A series of one-shots with no specific time and order surrounding the quartet of penguins in their best and worst moments.


Private couldn't remember the last time he had ever felt so horrible. Sure, he's suffered many injuries from electric shocks, to explosions, and to surprisingly accurate hits from a coffee mug, but it could never compare to when he got ill. Helpless shivering, sniffling, awful sickness. It was one of the few times he'd get crabby for no reason; otherwise, acting pitifully with innocent questions to when he'd get better.

It was also one of the few times that the team openly cared and worried over him, babying him in a way he couldn't help but selfishly indulge in. Their care made the sickness more tolerable. Still, they had their duties to attend to and that meant having to leave him alone at unexpected periods of time throughout the day. He noticed; however, that they'd always come back soon and panting, hinting to him of how much they cared if they would bother to rush back to him in such a hurry. It was flattering and always gave him a little warmth in his belly.

He'd promptly have to throw up.

Currently, he was trudging towards the television to watch the Lunacorns with one of the frilly pink horses tucked underneath his trembling flipper. Normally, they'd turn it on for him (that spoke volumes, as they couldn't even _stand_ that show), but in their current absence he had to make due and do it himself.

With some difficulty, Private turned on the television and sat down on his rump with a Lunacorn in one flipper and the remote in the other. The sound was louder than he had expected, so he turned it down to a low that was hardly audible. No matter, he has memorized all the shows and its dialogue. The splendor, though, was never lost to the young boy.

All the rainbow colors slowly merged and blurred together in an incoherent sight to the private and his butt had gradually gotten numb, his tail feathers feeling cold even as they twitched. It was this that was his downfall, snuggling into his Lunacorns carefully and tediously brushed hair as he settled weakly onto his side for a small doze.

Hushed voices and faint movements underneath his head is what Private woke up to after- how long had he been asleep? The voices offered him a small headache, but he felt too weak to complain, instead snuggling his head into the pillow that one of his teammates had just finished fluffing.

"-not getting any better Kowalski. Are you sure the boy's alright?" one very familiar commanding voice muttered anxiously, a concerned tone that Private had never heard before in his life from it.

"It isn't serious, I assure you," an intelligent reply from another voice. That one was also familiar… "I may not be a doctor, but I know rest and keeping his temperature cool will soothe the fever. The body needs rest for the antibodies to fight off the infection."

The image of little penguins in shining armor battling against squishy blobs with laser guns appeared in Private's hazy mind. He had to hold back a giggle.

"But…" here was a hesitant pause and then a blessedly cold appendage was touched to his forehead, soft, careful and short caresses against his brow. He quietly sighed and leaned into the touch. "…It doesn't hurt to be careful."

"Guess it may be time to bust out the old cooking pot and make my old famous Mung-fish surprise!"

"Skipper, we're trying to make Private better, not to send him into a coma. I have enough symptoms to worry about then to add food poisoning onto the list."

"One time it sent you into a coma, Kowalski, ONE TIME!" There were hushing sounds and the voice died down again. "Besides, I changed the recipe-"

"All the more reason why we are _not_ forcing that down his throat."

"…can't you just drug him?"

"I most certainly will n….well….."

There was some guttural mumbling, a third voice Private recognized, saying something to the other two. When had they gotten closer to his bunk?

"It's a…well it's a thought Rico, but I doubt Private would appreciate what you would view as _therapeutic_." Some more quiet mumbling. "…that may be the most touching thing I've ever heard. I had no idea-"

"That you'd ignore direct orders," the interruption growled. Private frowned and shifted at the accusatory tone. It must've gotten their attention because the voice got soft again but still whispered a shout. "I told you to toss that away!"

Private could just imagine the shrug as the rough reply came. "Eh, sentiment?" There was some kind of noise that made the young cadet scrunch up his face and turn onto his side, though still facing them. Something lifted his flipper, tucking a somewhat moist object there. He didn't mind that much; it felt cool and had a surprisingly nice smell coming from it.

Instinctively, Private brought it closer to himself and felt along its surface with his other flipper before curling around it. The feeling was familiar, though he couldn't place where.

"Mmm, if that isn't the cutest thing…"

"If you get past the snot, saliva, and bit of throw up then I suppose it is."

"Ew!" the garbled voice squealed.

"Oh, he didn't even get you! Unlike Kowalski here. Speaking of soldier, you need to go wash off that foot of yours; it's starting to stink in here like the elephant after some dairy."

"Nothing smells worse than that and you know it, Skipper!"

"My point lives on; now go wash up with some of that pretty shampoo Private was going on about buying last week."

Some bitter grumbling, "Aye Skipper…"

Private felt the presence move and instantly forced his eyes open. It felt fast and abrupt to him with the sudden blinding light from having been enveloped in darkness for so long, though it had been in actuality very gradual. "G-guys?" he croaked weakly, voice hoarse and cracking. Something was almost instantaneously placed against his beak, maneuvering his head so that it was bent and letting him drink what must've been water.

It was the oddest tasting water he'd ever tried, but he wasn't about to wonder why that was.

"Guys?" he tried again weakly, voice not nearly as painful to his throat. He blinked his bleary eyes and the blurry shapes formed into something he vaguely recognized. From left to right were Skipper, Kowalski, and Rico, crowding him with barely concealed worry.

"Yes Private?" Skipper acknowledged and even with his best shot Private could hear the underlying tone of anxiety and concern.

"Is something wrong?" Kowalski asked carefully and that same touch just hardly brushed against his brow. Private felt too shy to ask for it again.

Rico hummed his own concern and bent down a bit to add to the close proximity. He was never one to pay attention to personal space but for once he didn't quite mind.

"Don't leave," Private answered weakly, so pitifully that the other boys winced in sympathy. He suppressed a bout of coughing but couldn't help let loose a few. Water was downed again. "Scared…being alone…sick…" The private sniffed and clutched the plushy object to him tighter.

There was a hesitant look from his commanding officer. He opened his beak to say something, changed his mind, and then said in a reluctant tone, "Private-"

"_Please, _Skippah?" he pleaded weakly and turned baby blues to the bold azures of the flat headed penguin. Kowalski and Rico joined in.

Skipper drew in a breath and sighed quietly, another longer-than-it-seemed silence. There was a snort and then he smiled softly, another rare treat. He put a flipper on his stubby leg and nodded slightly. "Alright….till you fall asleep."

"A little bit after?" he asked hopefully, and his eyes dropped a bit more.

Kowalski answered this time and rubbed his flipper against Private's forehead with more openness then he had previously shown. "After and when you wake up again," he confirmed with a stiff nod, smiling at the growing one on Private's sniffling face.

"Good," he mumbled gratefully and buried his head into the object's plush comfort. "Thank you…"

Rico nudged his temple with his beak to assure his presence and then settled beside the bunk, regurgitating a magazine on monster trucks to pass the time.

Skipper pulled up a seat near Private's feet and turned the television to a more 'appealing' channel in a matter of seconds. Kowalski sat next to Rico after giving one last assuring touch, leaning against the heavy bird a bit to join him in his reading. The back of his head barely touched the boy's side, a comfort Private enjoyed.

Before his eyes closed, he finally looked at what he was holding. It was an old unicorn plush that he had when he'd first come to the unit, a mere hatchling. When he lost his down feathers, Skipper had insisted on getting rid of it, no matter how well he knew the private liked to drag the ragged thing around. From the lack of fight on Skipper's part, Private knew that he hadn't really wanted it gone; it gave too many good memories. He was thankful of Rico keeping it and made a note to thank him later, maybe find an excuse to get the weapons expert out of training.

"I love you guys," he murmured drowsily and closed his eyelids, welcoming the darkness with open arms.

The sudden eerie silence hardly disturbed him but a grin made way on his face when he heard the awkward, grumbling returned sentiment from his teammates; no, his brothers. His heart swelled and he felt just a little bit better.

It was bittersweet knowing everything would go back to its same old routine again, no more coddling or attention given to him. Yet, it was a nice reminder to know that they did care. With those thoughts, Private dreamed, fantasizing of all the stuff they'd get to do when he was better with the warmest smile.

It was at this time that the three realized how much they truly did love their heart of the team.


End file.
